The Cats of Tanglewood Forest by Charles De Lint

Somethingstirred in the undergrowth, and then Big Orange came out onto the grass. A half dozen other cats followed, with Black Nessie bringing up the rear. They sat in a ragged line, gazing in her direction. Lillian had the funny feeling that they were paying their respects, too.
    She lifted a hand to them, but they didn’t move. They were like a line of solemn little statues.
    “Lillian?” Earl called.
    At the sound of his voice the cats vanished like ghosts back in among the trees.
    “I’m coming,” she said.
    As she followed the Welches and the preacher, she found herself thinking about what Aunt Nancy had said.
    It doesn’t have to be this way.
    What had she meant?
    Lillian worried the words forward and back as they made their way down the hill.

CHAPTER EIGHT
The Welch Farm
    L illian’s first week at the Welch farm passed in a jumbled daze. All of Aunt’s livestock—Annabelle, Henry, and the chickens—had been moved there, adding to a busy routine of chores. At least they helped distract her from her sorrow.
    Lillian fed the chickens, tossing a little extra feed to the wild birds, just as she always did. There were pigs to look after, a garden to hoe and weed, horses to groom, and, of course, cows to milk and feed. She still set aside saucers for the forest cats.
    But none of the cats came anywhere close to her now,even though some, like Big Orange and Black Nessie, had followed her down from Aunt’s. Naturally, the Welch farm cats were very shy of her—after all, they still had to get to know her. But strangely, the cats that she did know kept their distance as well. There were no more head butts from Big Orange, and Black Nessie didn’t weave in and out around her legs anymore.

    Something had changed. No, everything had changed. And Lillian had never felt more alone in her life.
    Harlene tried hard—too hard—to make Lillian feel welcome. Her constant hovering, fixing favorite meals, offering to sew her a new dress, all of it just made Lillian miss Aunt, the farm, and her independence even more. All she wanted was to be back home at Kindred farm.
    At first, Harlene had objected to letting her go off on her own after chores, but Lillian pointed out that it was what she had always done, and Earl finally said, “Stop trying to coddle the girl. She’s not a prisoner.” So Harlene compromised, saying Lillian could leave, but only if she took the dogs along for safety.
    Lillian agreed to Harlene’s rules—at least for now. She would have done anything to get back home, and anyway, Buddy and Mutt were good companions, always ready for a romp in the woods. More often than not she raced them all the way to the farm, just to feel the summer breeze in her hair and pretend for a moment that she was still a carefree little girl.
    Sometimes she’d go to Aunt’s vegetable garden and hoe between the rows.
    She’d drop off a biscuit at the base of the Apple Tree Man’s trunk, though she wasn’t sure anymore if she did it out of habit, or because it was something Aunt used to tease her about.
    But she never went into the corn patch.
    Often, she thought about what Aunt Nancy had told her.
    It doesn’t have to be this way.

    The wild cats watched her, always keeping their distance, even when the dogs were off chasing squirrels. They seemed to be wary of something, but Lillian had no idea what it could be.
    She’d remember her dream then—that circle of cats around the beech tree—or she’d think of how they’d come to pay their respects at Aunt’s funeral.
    Those memories would make her begin to believe once again that the world was maybe a more mysterious place than a body might think.

    Around the Welch farm, Harlene chattered and fussed, but Earl was all business. He didn’t ignoreLillian, but he didn’t pander to her, either, for which she was grateful. Earl’s conversations focused mostly around practicalities.
    “A farm doesn’t run by itself,” he liked to say before attending to whatever task